


Growing Two Heads

by itwasprongs



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin - Freeform, Bisexual Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Raven Reyes Friendship, Clarke Griffin/Lexa - Freeform, F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Monty Green/Nathan Miller, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Minor Raven Reyes/Kyle Wick, Past Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Past Finn Collins/Raven Reyes, Slow Burn Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, monty and jasper are hardcore fangirls, they're all in bands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itwasprongs/pseuds/itwasprongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So… with the Galaxy Girls not proving to be too much of a Big Deal at the moment, The Grounders rising from the dead like a phoenix and the Delinquents not even stopping to take a breath it’s obvious to me that the ring the Delinquents and the Galaxy Girls have been dancing around in for a while has just got a new opponent in the corner. Question is - who’s gonna get knocked out?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unavoidable Tragedies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's got a plan and she means to see it through, Abby Griffin be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first multi-chap fic and tbh I have no clue how long it will end up being. I've got a plan for it and I'm a few chapters ahead but idk how long it will take me to put everything together. Hopefully I'll get a chapter up every week or so. POV will alternate between Clarke and Bellamy but each chapter will start with an article from Spacewalker's blog. 
> 
> Eternal thanks to Nai ([twilightstargazer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer)/[hiddenpolkadots](hiddenpolkadots.tumblr.com)) for reading this over for me and also for generally being amazing!

**A NEW OPPONENT IN THE RING (11/21)**

_Last night the_ Delinquents _performed to a Sold Out crowd at the_ Dropship _and once again proved that it isn’t just good looks that they possess. Lead singer Bellamy Blake almost started a riot when he ripped off his shirt half way during the set but it was the debut of their new single_ Slay Your Demons _that meant paramedics had to be called to the scene. [Read the interview with 14 year old Charlotte whose attempt to climb the stage failed dramatically here.] A few minutes after the band finished playing the single it was released online and within hours was at the top of both the_ iTunes _and_ Mountain Music _chart._

_This new single precedes the release of their album_ Whatever The Hell We Want _which will be released in two months and is arguably the most anticipated album of the year. With two singles already dropped (_ Remembering You _and_ My Own Damn Story _) it’s likely that_ Slay Your Demons _will be the last single before the album hits. Some fans are speculating that if rival band,_ Galaxy Girls _, hints at a new album in the works, Blake & Co will decide to ramp it up and release another single, drawing attention back to them._

_Tonight the_ Galaxy Girls _will take the stage at the_ Dropship _and there’s one question that has to be asked. Although they too are performing to a Sold Out crowd is it likely that the newly named (you may recall that just last week they were performing as_ Birds of Prey _)_ Galaxy Girls _will be able to invoke such fervor and passion in a crowd, as the_ Delinquents _did? Since their boom in fans at the beginning of the year, following their entrance into the UK market,_ Galaxy Girls _have been toeing the line musically, keeping it calm on stage and being suspiciously secretive off. Rumours circulated last month that they were going to drop an album - and those rumours were quickly quashed by the band’s label,_ ArkSounds _, to the disappointment of new and old fans alike._

_Of course that’s not to say the_ Galaxy Girls _aren’t valid competition anymore for the_ Delinquents _[Read about the two band’s notorious rivalry here.] yet, personally, I don’t think the_ Delinquents _need to worry about attention being drawn away from their album._

_One band that is definitely valid competition is the newly rejuvenated girl group,_ The Grounders _. Following the death two years ago of bassist Costia, the band took a break away from the music industry and seemingly vanished off the face of the planet. All of their social media went quiet and they were nowhere to be found for interviews. Nine months ago however they roared back into life, their silence broken by a single tweet from new bassist Octavia Blake. The tweet “_ WE’RE BACK BITCHES!!! #TheGrounders _” currently has over 950,000 retweets and was followed by a storm of questions directed to not only_  The Grounders _but also to the_ Delinquents _, the latter of whom refused to comment._

_It’s universally known that Octavia and Bellamy Blake began the_ Delinquents _[Read about the beginnings of the_ Delinquents _here.] and when the younger Blake announced that she was leaving the band, to be replaced by Nathan Miller, two months before_ The Grounders _returned, it’s safe to say fans were, at the least, confused. [Read about Octavia Blake’s announcement here.] Her tweet heralded even more confusion and friction as it was realised that she was to replace Costia as_ The Grounders' _bassist. Nine months later and only the smallest fraction of fans are still complaining about Blake’s presence in the group._

_Having released five singles separate of any album,_ The Grounders _are scheduled to tour the states in two month’s time, the first weekend of their tour coinciding with the Delinquent’s new album. It also coincides with the beginning of the_ Galaxy Girls' _ten city tour [Read about the_ Galaxy Girls' _tour schedule here.] and the music industry is buzzing._

_So… with the_ Galaxy Girls _not proving to be too much of a Big Deal at the moment,_ The Grounders _rising from the dead like a phoenix and the_ Delinquents _not even stopping to take a breath, it’s obvious to me that the ring the_ Delinquents _and the_ Galaxy Girls _have been dancing around in for a while has just got a new opponent in the corner. Question is - who’s gonna get knocked out?_

_\- - Spacewalker, writing for MusicMoreThanMonthly.com_

* * *

“Not a good idea.” A voice behind her makes Clarke jump and she snaps her laptop lid down, turning to look over her shoulder. Raven’s standing there, coffee cup in hand, one eyebrow raised.

“I wasn’t looking at anything.” Clarke mumbles, fiddling with the hem of her shorts. If it’s possible, Raven’s eyebrow gets even more judgmental.

“Clarke,” she sighs and steps forward to set her mug down, “he’s a pile of steaming shit on the sidewalk and reading the crap he writes isn’t going to help you, or anyone.” Clarke knows what Raven is saying is true but she can’t stop herself from checking the site every day, just to see what new knives he has to throw at them.

“He said we weren’t competition anymore.” She says, picking up Raven’s mug and taking a sip. She winces at the taste of sugar in the drink.

“No - he said there was a new opponent in the ring. That doesn’t mark us as losers just yet.” Now it’s Clarke’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Monty texted me. I don’t read that crap.” Raven looks affronted at the very idea and takes her mug back, wrapping her hands around it.

Pushing her laptop across the island surface, Clarke stands. “He’s right though. Have you listened to _Slay Your Demons_  yet?”

“It’s the only damn thing playing on the radio.” To demonstrate, Raven reaches across and flicks on the radio and immediately the already recognisable chorus blasts into the room.

“It’s brilliant.” Clarke says.

“I know.” The words are reluctantly honest and as Raven turns off the radio, Clarke can see the shadows under her eyes. Usually both of them are tired from staying up all night working on songs but in the past three weeks they haven’t even set pen to paper and she knows that she must have been up worrying, just like her.

“If I didn’t hate Blake so much I’d tell him well done.”

“Lucky you hate him, because otherwise his head would probably expand to the size of the moon.” Raven snorts and leans against the counter, staring thoughtfully into her mug. “Do you think we should talk to your Mom again?”

“No.” Clarke doesn’t want to talk to Abby Griffin unless she had to. Especially after their last meeting which had ended in Mrs Griffin forbidding the girls from releasing an album until  _Whatever The Hell We Want_  had run its course. Which was fucking stupid, on so many levels.

“Then we better get ready for sound checks.” Raven downs the rest of her coffee and slams the mug onto the counter, gone before Clarke can say anything else.

 

Monty is cheering before they’ve even finished the song and Clarke grins, the rush of playing on stage allowing her to forget about everything.

“ _So… tell me... do you love him?_ ” Raven whispers into the mic, the last note filling the club.

“No - he’s a damn piece of trash.” Clarke says breathlessly, pulling her ear buds out and letting her guitar fall against her legs. Raven laughs and rolls her eyes. Someone is calling over the tannoy system and Clarke blocks them out. She wants to stay in the song for as long as she can, stay on the stage with her guitar strap around her neck, stay next to Raven until the last possible moment. Then Monty is bounding onto stage, flask in hand, and the song is broken.

“For my favorite ladies.” He hands the flask to Raven who sniffs at it and recoils.

“That smells like damn rocket fuel, Monty. What you trying to do, kill us before our gig?” Raven tips the flask back anyway, nose wrinkling at the taste. She’s coughing before it even hits her throat. “Tastes like rocket fuel too.”

“You’re going to get arrested for this one day.” Clarke says as she takes the flask and gulps some of the liquid down. It scorches her mouth and makes her want to spit it out and she knows that Monty really is going to kill them with his moonshine one day.

“Nah, I’ve got friends on the force.” Monty shrugs, his dimples belying the fact that his friend on the force is his parole officer. A parole office who only knows about the weed and not about the drink.

They get called off the stage and sent to the dressing rooms a moment later and Clarke bags first shower as Monty tries to convince Raven that he’s not high, just a little tipsy. She lets the water burn over her back until her legs are bright red and she’s forgotten about Finn and his knives and Abby Griffin and her bullshit and Wells and his coffin. And suddenly Raven’s banging on the door and telling her to get the fuck out so she wraps a towel beneath her armpits and steps out of the heat and into the cold.

 

“Selfie?” Monty asks, holding his phone out expectantly. The crowd is screaming and already the club smells of sweat and excitement. Their support band, consisting of three girls whose music never quite leaves the topic of love, almost collapsed off the stage half an hour ago and the room has been thrumming with what’s to come since.

“Sure.” They’re meant to be on stage in two minutes. Raven tugs Clarke towards her anyway and the two girls lean over Monty’s shoulders, grinning and holding up their guitars. The picture takes and within seconds it’s on Monty’s instagram and the likes begin to pile in.

“The people do love us.” Monty grins and then he’s pushed out of the way as technicians come forward to check the girl’s ear pieces and guitars. “Good luck!” He yells before disappearing, inevitably to go sit at the bar and try to chat up cute guys. Raven and Clarke grin at each other over the heads of the technicians. It’s show time.

The technicians clear out and it’s just them at the side of the stage, hidden from the crowd by the curtains. For Clarke this is one of the best parts of the right. Standing at the side with the thrill of what’s about to happen rushing through her, looking at people who are there to see them, jumping and screaming and shouting their names.

“Ready?” Raven shouts over the noise and Clarke nods, grinning. They high five and bump hips, counting down from five the second their hands touch.   _Five… four… three….two….one… lift off._

They run on to stage, feet pounding over the black floor and the crowd is dancing and waving hands and phones and glow sticks in the air and they’re singing.

“ _Lost you in the dark, not sure where to look, one second you were there, now I’m struggling to see you…_ ” It’s not on the setlist and it’s one of their old songs, basically the first one they ever wrote, but the crowd knows it and they settle a little bit, the music for once not jazzed up with amps or a backing track. Clarke closes her eyes and sings, lips on the mic, and she can see Wells now, standing at the side of the stage cheering her on, always supporting her no matter what, and she knows Raven is thinking of the night they both lost Finn because Raven’s never had someone close to her taken away in an instant. Not by death.

She can feel the song inside her, bursting out and ripping through the room like it’s a song of bass lines and jumps rather than a container for the men she’s lost. They finish the song and don’t pause for breath as they move onto the next ones, swapping their acoustics for an electric and bass guitar.

They run through the first three songs on the set like they’re sprinting to a finish line they can’t quite see and then they stop and push the sweaty hair off their face, unstick their tops from their stomachs and grin like cheshire cats at the audience.

As Raven is making her usual introduction and getting the crowd riled up for the rest of their set, Clarke grabs her bottle of water from the front of the stage and takes five quick gulps. And it’s in that second that she spots him. Sitting at the bar at the back of the club, where it’s almost too dark to make out, is Bellamy Blake. He’s leaning against the bar, long legs stretched out in front of him, a glass of something in his hand. He looks relaxed, languid, nonchalant… Clarke runs through every synonym she knows for ‘doesn’t give a shit’ and they all fit him.

“So… what we want to know is,” Raven’s looking over at her, waiting, lips stretched into a breathless smile, and Clarke snaps her gaze away from the bastard at the bar and to the audience in front of her who are just about silent for the rest of the question.

“ _Do you love him?_ ” And they’re off into their next songs, pounding through the rhythms like they’re giants and nothing they do will ever be wrong. Raven never stops moving, bouncing on her feet and using Clarke’s mic more than her own. Clarke’s laughing as she sings, and she feels like a loose cannon all over again, like she feels every time she gets up on stage with her best friend and they play their music as people scream their names.

It’s their last song and Blake’s staring at her like he knows the meaning behind every single word she’s ever sung.  _Fuck it_. Clarke thinks and mouths to Raven that she wants to say something before they start.

“This one goes out to the bastard at the bar.” Her words are drowning heat and even though it’s the sort of voice she uses when she’s got someone’s head between her legs, Clarke doesn’t care because it’s the voice he heard a few months ago on the night she decided she didn’t want to give a fuck anymore. And he knows it. She winks. “You can go fuck yourself.”

The audience is turning to see who she’s spitting her venom at and he raises his glass before disappearing, melting into the shadows because he owes her that much. Raven is looking at her like she’s not sure what she’s going to do with the time bomb she’s sharing the stage with and Clarke grins and then strikes the first chord of the song and it doesn’t matter anymore if it was Blake or Wells or even her mom at the bar because all she can hear is the sound of her and Raven telling the world to cut them loose.

 

“What the  _hell_ , Blake?” She’s locked in their dressing room and she knows it’s a bad idea but she’s still got the music in her veins and she doesn’t want to drop the ‘fuck you’ attitude yet.

“Didn’t realise it was a crime to go to a concert.” He drawls down the line and his voice sounds like he smokes two packs a day, just as it always does.

Clarke scoffs. “Like you paid for your ticket.”

“Are you suggesting I have other means of getting in?”

“You probably batted your eyelashes and flexed your arms.” She’s pacing up and down the dressing room, a lawyer questioning the witness, and he’s laughing like someone who doesn’t care that they’re about to be locked up for good.

“Didn’t know you thought I had nice arms.” He says. Shivers shoot through her and Clarke hates him hates him hates him.

“Fuck off Blake. The next time you show up to one of our concerts you’ll be hauled out by security.” She hangs up and throws the phone onto the dressing table, kicking a chair over for good measure. _Bastard bastard bastard._

 

She wakes up the next morning in Raven’s bed, nose inches away from the other girl’s armpit. They fall asleep like this often. Scribbled words on paper that have the possibility of lyrics in their ink lying on the sheet and guitars never more than an arms length away. Clarke rolls onto her back and stares at the white ceiling, wishing this was the extent of her world. Endless days with Raven writing music. No dead parents, no dead best friends, no bitch for a mom, no cheating ex-boyfriend, no Bellamy Blake who makes her feel so many things at once when she doesn’t want to feel anything at all.

Next to her her phone lights up and she unlocks it, looking at the notifications. Eight missed calls from Jasper at four in the morning, a message from her mum, two missed calls from Monty a minute after Jasper’s and an email update telling her that  _Spacewalker_  has updated his blog. Clarke looks across at Raven, eyeshadow smudged less than purposefully across her cheeks and mouth open as her chest rises and falls.

She opens the message from her mom. Five words.  _Stick to the set list._  Deleting it before she can let the words strangle her, Clarke opens up instagram. The latest photos are from fan accounts she follows and they’re mostly edits from last night. She likes them and scrolls further down and stops on  _thedelinquents_  latest photo, posted two hours ago. It’s a picture of the band, Blake, Miller, Murphy and Roma, all huddled around in a room, a guitar across Blake’s lap and a smile across everyone’s faces. It’s posed. So obviously posed. Clarke knows because the only time John Murphy ever smiles like that is when he’s been told to or he’ll be kicked out of the band. In large letters across it is the countdown to the release of  _Whatever The Hell We Want_. Fifty days to go. It launches on the tenth of January, the same day  _Galaxy Girls_  open their ten city tour in New York and the same day  _The Grounders_  open their state wide tour in Washington DC.

Not liking the picture, Clarke scrolls further down and stops at Octavia Blake’s latest picture. Posted last night it’s a selfie of her and  _The Grounders_ ’ bodyguard and songwriter, Lincoln. Lincoln’s chin rests on Octavia’s head and although they’re pulling faces Octavia still looks impossibly beautiful. Cute, but like she could kill you at any moment. It’s the sort of look Raven’s always had and Clarke’s always wanted. All the women in _The Grounders_  seem to have it. Except for Indra. Indra just has the ‘kill you at any moment’ part. Clarke can see her in the background of the picture, glaring at the pair.

She likes it and moves on, scrolling until she finds Monty’s selfie. “ _@iffoundreturntoclarke: pre concert with my main gals @scientistbyday and @notsodumb (@livinthehighlife isn’t in this one bc he’s lAME AND WENT ON A DATE INSTEAD)_ ” She grins at the comments, most of them asking who Jasper went out with, and likes the photo, reminding herself to get Monty to send it her to her so she can print it out and stick it on her wall of pictures.

“Shhhh.” Clarke looks over and sees Raven burying her head beneath her pillow.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“So loud.” Raven hisses.

“It’s midday Ray.” Clarke says and chucks a piece of balled up paper at her friend. It bounces off her shoulder and without even looking Raven grabs it and throws it back, catching Clarke’s ear.

“Time doesn’t exist. It’s a man made concept. Animals don’t have time - they don’t need time. Why do we?”

“Because we have a meeting with my mom in three hours and I think she’d drop us from the label in an instant if you arrived wearing nothing except your bra and some random guy’s boxers.” At that Raven rises like the kraken from her nest of sheets and glares at Clarke.

“I’m quitting the band.” She scowls.

“Like the time you quit the day after we started it and the time you quit when we ran out of doritos on the way to Seattle and the time you quit when I told you exercise was required for a healthy life?” Clarke smirks as Raven dives back down into the sheets, middle finger poking out.

 

An hour later they’re showered and dressed and sitting on the balcony with their guitars, trying to see if they can clean up what they wrote last night. It was mostly lyrics but there are a few chords and melodies scattered among the pages so as Clarke scratches out words and tries to rhyme ‘nebula’ with something, Raven hums tunes and plucks at her guitar strings.

“How about this -” Clarke looks up from the paper balanced on her crossed legs and listens as Raven plays, eyes closed and heart open.

“I think we should write an album.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Raven raises her eyebrows.

Clarke shakes her head and sets her feet on the floor, leaning forwards. “These are just songs. I think we should write an album.”

“What about your mom?”

“Fuck my mom.” Clarke wants to scream it from the rooftops, tell the world that she hates Abby Griffin.

“Okay. Okay.” Raven says, voice calm. “We write an album. Nine songs-”

“Ten songs.” Clarke interrupts, Raven’s eyebrow silencing her a second later.

“We write an album.  _Ten_  songs. Then what? Your mom has explicitly told us that  _ArkSounds_  won’t support an album until Blake’s damn shit has blown over. We can’t release an album without distribution, a studio, publicity. It would crash.”

“No.” Clarke is smiling, shaking her head and smiling because there’s a plan in her head and it’s so obvious. “We write ten songs. Record them at some studio somewhere - doesn’t need to be at  _ArkSounds_. Don’t tell anyone. No press or publicity. Then we drop them. One song every city. It’s an album in pieces. They can’t stop us from doing something they don’t know we’re doing and once we’ve dropped the first song they won’t be able to stop it. They’d get too much backlash.” She’s buzzing like she’s on a high and Raven is starting to smile in that way she does every time a song starts to come together.

“What about releasing it? We’d need sales.”

“Send the recorded version over to  _Mountain Music_  and every other site that sells the minute we come off stage. Everything hits the media after we’ve done the first song. If we get the first song done, they won’t be able to stop us.”

“This is ridiculous, Clarke.” Raven says, shaking her head. She’s also smiling and Clarke knows that they can do it. Sure it’s ridiculous - so was starting an all girl two piece punk rock/indie/rock band in the first place. They pulled that off, they can pull this off too.

“If we fail we fail. If we don’t, we’re fucking legends.”

 

By the time they reach  _ArkSounds_  HQ the high has worn off and Clarke feels like she’s walking to the executioner’s block. It’s their usual monthly meeting but whenever Clarke has to see her mom she feels like someone’s swinging an axe at her.

In the elevator Raven bounces on the balls of her feet and hums the tune to  _Slay Your Demons_. It’s annoying and not just because that song was written by Clarke’s unfairly attractive rival. Clarke wants to tell her to shut up yet is stopped by their arrival to the 50th floor. Five minutes later and she’s forgotten all about Raven’s humming because her mum is once again using the band’s monthly meetings with their label to talk about family stuff.

The conference room is empty except for Raven, Clarke, Abby and Abby’s assistant, Jackson. The latter clears out pretty quickly when Clarke stands up and starts yelling and because she’s so used to it Raven just leans back in her chair and pulls out her phone, thankful that _ArkSounds_  never has bad reception.

Clarke yells a lot and Abby yells back and cries a little bit. Mainly though it’s just Clarke throwing fire across the table until none of what she’s saying makes sense anymore. When her hands start to shake Raven stands and pulls her out of the room where she feels like she’s drowning, away from Abby’s burning words and searing eyes, and they’re gone gone gone because Raven knows that Clarke crashes further than she flies and these monthly meetings always end like this.

_ArkSounds_  has the best security Raven has ever seen so they’re in her car and on the road without anyone seeing them. Clarke sits in the passenger seats and cries, hands trembling and knees pressed to her chest like she can keep her lungs inside of her. Raven doesn’t turn the radio on for fear of _Slay Your Demons_  and when they arrive at Monty and Jasper’s building she keeps an arm around Clarke’s shoulder as they walk in.

Monty’s waiting at the door with an anxious face and he takes Clarke from Raven once they’re across the threshold, guiding Clarke to the couch whilst Raven bolts the door.

“We’ve got movies, snacks, drinks.” Jasper lists, walking out of the kitchen and dropping down next to Monty and Clarke. Clarke’s still crying, the tears softer now she knows she’s safe, and Raven decides to step out for a second. Monty and Jasper are already wrapping Clarke in their arms, the group hug a messy tangle of limbs and smudged mascara on arms.

In the kitchen Raven pulls her phone from her pocket and opens up her emails. Whilst she’s sure no paparazzi saw them, you can never be too sure and no one wants pictures of Clarke Griffin sobbing splashed over tabloids less than Raven. There’s nothing though, not from _ArkSounds_ , on Finn’s dumb website, twitter, instagram - nothing. It’s sad that they’ve had to do this so many times that, by now, they know exactly how to avoid media attention. She runs a hand through her hair and sighs, leaning against the counter. Monty and Jasper’s place is never tidy but thanks to her warning text they’ve at least had the chance to hide away all the weed she knows they have scattered around. Right now though, Raven kinda wishes that they’d at least left a cigarette out.

 

When they first started  _Galaxy Girls_  they gained fans quickly. Sure they were helped by the fact that Abby Griffin practically ran  _ArkSounds_  and therefore they had some of the best help in the music industry of hitting the big time, but mostly it was actually their music that people fell in love with. With the music they were writing you didn’t need posters and shout outs and flyers because the sound was enough.

Two of their first fans were Monty and Jasper. Both college drop outs with a tendency to smoke a lot of weed and brew a lot of moonshine, Monty ran fan accounts on every single social media and Jasper’s feeds never deviated from the every other pattern of weed and  _Galaxy Girls_. (Or as they were known when they first started -  _Reyes ‘n’ Griffin_.) There was a rally around six months in for Monty and Jasper to meet Clarke and Raven so, knowing it would be good for publicity to meet some hardcore fans and hang out with them for a day, they did. Except a day turned into a night, a night turned into a weekend, a weekend turned into a week and then that was it. Wherever  _Galaxy Girls_  were, Monty and Jasper were sure to be close by. For some reason, and it really was random since the girls had almost nothing in common with the boys, they all became best friends. They had official groupies. (Monty made t-shirts for he and Jasper to wear at the concerts that read “ _Official Groupies (Please Don’t Crowd Us)_ ”.)

Jasper came to them with the latest hotspots to play or be seen and Monty kept them up to date with literally every single online mention of them. They were the third and fourth members of the band, excusing the fact that the only instrument they could play with any semblance of melody was the recorder. Which is why they’re always the first people Raven and Clarke go to if something happens. They’re the safety net that neither girl has had before.

Which is why it only takes about two hours before Clarke is smiling at Jasper’s jokes and telling Monty to pass her the popcorn. They’ve separated from their group hug and Raven is sitting next to Jasper on the bright orange sofa whilst Clarke takes up most of the space on the purple sofa, feet in Monty’s lap as he picks out the fried eggs from a packet of haribos.

“We haven’t asked yet, ohmygod,” Clarke’s speaking around a mouthful of popcorn and m&m’s, hands gesticulating. “How did the date go?” She doesn’t sound sad anymore, doesn’t even look as if she’s been crying thanks to Monty’s stash of make-up wipes, and Raven wonders if the fact that she’s gotten so good at hiding her pain will ever be a good thing.

Jasper blushes. “It was good. Really good.”

“Wouldn’t shut up about her when she got back. Maya this Maya that.” Monty rolls his eyes, grinning despite his words.

“We want to know everything.” Clarke says.

“Spare no detail.” Raven nods, stealing some m&m’s from the bowel in Jasper’s lap and hoping Clarke will stop mixing them with popcorn because really, seeing that mush of sweets in her friend’s mouth is gross.

“Not much to say really.” Jasper is being evasive. Which means “really good” is an understatement.

“He took her to this swanky restaurant and then he couldn’t pronounce a single thing on the menu and so she bailed them out, sweet right, and they went to a bowling alley instead and he paid for some cheap ass fast food meal and let her win and then he took her home and kissed her goodnight, and it’s all brilliant.” Monty speaks without taking a breath, catching the popcorn kernel Jasper launches at him in annoyance in his mouth.

“She bailed you?” Raven asks.

“Said she didn’t feel like salmon or whatever the fuck was on the menu. I think she could tell I was a little nervous.”

Clarke grins. “I want to meet her.”

“We’ve been on one date!” Jasper protests, shaking his head.

“Bring her to a concert for your second date. Introduce her to your super duper famous celebrity friends.” Raven elbows Jasper gently in the ribs. “Go on, concert dates are cute.”

“If cute is hundreds of sweating bodies groping each other then, yeah, I guess concert dates are cute.” He rolls his eyes, fiddling with the goggles that are perpetually slung around his neck.

Raven snorts. “It’s better than bringing her to this dump.”

“Hey!” Objections come from both Monty and Jasper and soon they’ve all dissolved into fits of giggles about the idea of bringing someone who is practically a stranger to the hovel Monty and Jasper somehow call a home. It’s more like a decommissioned lab crossed with a thirteen year old’s bedroom. With some seriously dodgy additions, such as the large hunting spear that had nearly killed Jasper when he accidentally knocked it over in an antique store.

“Promise we get to meet her if you make it three dates?” Clarke asks once they’ve stopped laughing.

“Are you implying that it’s not utterly, 100% guaranteed my cohort could make it to a third date with a pretty girl?” Monty grins, leaning his head back and tipping a handful of fried eggs into his mouth all at once.

Raven laughs. “We are definitely saying that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @iffoundreturntoclarke - Monty's instagram  
> @livinthehighlife - Jasper's instagram  
> @mechanicbyday - Raven's instagram  
> @notsodumb - Clarke's instagram  
> @thedelinquents - Official Band instagram of the Delinquents


	2. Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy Blake has an album coming out in fifty days but he'd much rather screw pretty girls than think about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter whoop! The first few chapters might have a few chunks of information in just so I can get the scene properly and move onto the interesting stuff quickly. This one's from Bellamy's POV. 
> 
> Thanks heaped upon thanks heaped upon thanks goes to Nai ([twilightstargazer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer)/[hiddenpolkadots](hiddenpolkadots.tumblr.com)) again because she is a goddess and looked over this for me.

**FAN, STALKER, EX-BOYFRIEND OR MAYBE ALL THREE? (11/22)**

_Although Jasper James was missing from last night’s performance, the_ Galaxy Girls _performed well, almost well enough to convince me that they’re valid competition against, either Blake and their bands. Almost. Opening with one of the first songs they ever released,_ Do You Love Him? _, Griffin and Reyes showed that they haven’t lost their knack for killing the vibe. Albeit being a good song, it’s not great and certainly a little tired out given the amount of songs they’ve released since then._

_However the atmosphere was ramped up a little in the room when Clarke Griffin dedicated their closing song to a mysterious “bastard at the bar”. [See the video here.] No one has been able to identify who this covert “bastard” is and, as of yet, Clarke Griffin has shown no signs of telling who it was. Fans have been speculating since last night’s performance._

_Some are saying it could be a crazed fan who crossed the line. Others are saying it’s a stalker who Clarke has finally had enough of. More though suspect that the elusive “bastard” is a previous boyfriend, unfortunate enough to cross path with Griffin’s public wrath. I myself suspect that it could have all been a publicity stunt, staged to give the impression the_ Galaxy Girls _’ lead singer has some spirit._

_It’s unlikely that we will ever learn who the unaccountable “bastard at the bar” is but if anyone has any pictures or are eyewitnesses to yesterday’s concert - specifically the strange “bastard” - do not hesitate to send them in. Is Clarke Griffin perhaps hiding a relationship that, given her role model status, her fans deserve to know about?_

_In other news, the_ Delinquents _released a statement this morning saying they were to be featured on a chat show in the upcoming week. Keep your eyes peeled for the sharp jawline of Bellamy Blake on your tv!_

_\- - Spacewalker, writing for MusicMoreThanMonthly.com_

* * *

 

Bellamy ignores his phone as it continues to blare Taylor Swift’s _I Knew You Were Trouble_ at him. His legs are aching from the hour long run he’s just returned from and he’s resigned himself to the fact that if he wants to stay in shape he’s going to have to go on more than one run a week. He really doesn’t have the energy to talk to Octavia right now. Especially when she’s no doubt calling him about his appearance at the _Galaxy Girls_ ’ concert last night, most likely wanting to know _why?_ Bellamy isn’t sure exactly how she knows he was there but he’s smart enough to guess that Miller had something to do with it. When it comes to Bellamy and the _Galaxy Girls_ , Miller’s usually the one telling Octavia what’s going on.

The song plays through three more times, only a few seconds silence in between her attempts, and Bellamy makes himself a strong cup of coffee. Eventually it stops ringing and starts to vibrate, jerking with every message Octavia sends him. Within three minutes, 28 messages have buzzed through. Bellamy turns his phone off and walks to his bedroom. It’s three in the afternoon and he’s been awake barely two hours and yet still he feels tired to the bone. That probably has something to do with the fact he’s been up all night every night writing songs for the past two weeks. Songs and crappy poetry not even Octavia gets to see. No one will never get to see the shitty poems he writes about pretty girls with blue eyes and girls who became strong without him noticing.

Most of the songs haven’t even been good. Just scraps of music that consist of thoughts turned into lyrics. Not his best work. Given that _Whatever The Hell We Want_ comes out in 49 days, Bellamy can’t really blame himself. He’d poured most of his heart into that album and since he’d finished writing it, everything else he’s even thought of hasn’t really been up to scratch. He sighs and kicks the piles of paper from last night’s writing session to the corner of his room where they join the stacks that have been growing over the past fourteen days.

His laptop is asleep on his bed and he ignores it, knowing that if he wakes it up he’ll just end up reading the latest article on _MusicMoreThanMonthly_. He’s already read it through several times and if he reads it again, he might follow through on his plan to message Spacewalker and tell him what a dick he is.

 

When he finally rings Octavia back it’s five o’clock and he’s spent the day walking around his apartment in his underwear, avoiding calls and tweets and texts and emails. For him, that’s somewhat productive.

“What the _hell_ , Blake?” O’s voice sounds clear down the line, annoyed and concerned at the same time.

Bellamy chuckles. “Nice to speak to you too.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Bell. What’s going on? You stalking Clarke Griffin now? Or is it Raven you’re back in bed with?” His little sister knows how to throw her punches and Bellamy’s pretty sure she got it from him.

“Don’t be cute, O. I’m not sleeping with either of them. And I never slept with the Princess, not technically anyway-”

“Oh god, shut up, I do _not_ want to know about your sexual encounters thanks very much.”

“You brought it up.”

“Not so you could give me a _play by play_ account of what happened!” He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “If you’re not screwing one of them, why were you there?”

“Checking out the competition.” Bellamy deflects, dropping down onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“That’s the biggest piece of bull’ I’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t know why I was there, O, I really don’t. I just went.”

Octavia pauses for a moment. Then she scoffs. “Well figure out what’s going on before Spacewalker decides that he’d like to further ruin Griffin’s life by making up some shit about you and her banging.”

“No one saw me.”

“ _Miller_ saw you.” She throws back, just as quick.

“Miller doesn’t count.”

“Whatever. Just make sure you sort it out, okay? Whether it was a one time ‘crash their gig’ thing or something else.” Sensible. She’s being sensible and pragmatic - two words that are generally never used to describe Octavia Blake.

“Sure. Dinner next week?”

“You can’t keep me away. Now go sort your shit out.”

“Mhmm.”

He’s about to say bye and hang up when she stops him, “Oh, and Bell?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.” A grin breaks out in his face and he laughs softly.

“Love you too, O, be careful.”

“Whatever big bro.” The line goes dead, leaving Bellamy to smile the smile Octavia has told him on many occasions that she swears is only for her. It’s probably true.

 

Miller comes over at six, takeout and guitar in hand. They set up in the makeshift studio Bellamy built himself, spreading food across the mixing table and crashing on the old bean bags.

“You banging Reyes again?” Miller asks as he spoons noodles into his mouth.

Bellamy stabs a chopstick through a piece of chicken. “Didn’t know you were O’s spy now.”

“Murphy reckons you are,” Miller ignores Bellamy’s words, “If you’re not careful Roma might think you are too.”

“Well Murphy’s a dick.”

“Still thinks you’re banging Reyes though.” Whilst Octavia isn’t pragmatic, Miller embodies the word perfectly. Bellamy would resent him for it if he wasn’t his best friend.

“I’m not.” He says gruffly.

“I never said you were. Also good - don’t start either because then I’d owe Murphy ten dollars.” Miller grins, swapping his takeout box for his guitar. Deciding not to dignify him with a reply, Bellamy picks up his own guitar and plays a few chords. If Miller wants to discuss more about why Bellamy was at the concert last night, he can start the conversation again himself. Soon they’re running through _Whatever The Hell We Want_ , Bellamy singing and Miller marking notes on sheets every so often.

“Still hate Spacewalker?” Miller interrupts _My Own Damn Story_ after looking at his phone, only about twenty minutes after they started playing.

“The sky still blue?”

“Might hate him more now.” Bellamy stills his strings, takes the phone Miller is holding out and looks at the screen. It’s a conversation with someone called Dealer and Bellamy makes a note to laugh at Miller about that later. The latest message is a screenshot of a tweet. Bellamy enlarges the picture and reads, frowning. “@spacewalker: _thanks to @GGBiggestFan12 we’ve identified the “bastard at the bar”. @thedelinquents you guys know anything about this?_ ” Already Bellamy knows what’s going to be in the picture Spacewalker has attached to the tweet and his suspicions are confirmed when he sees himself leaning against the bar, a poster for the _Galaxy Girls_ concert right behind him, making it definite where he is.

“Fuck.”

“You’re such a dumbass.” Miller takes his phone back and taps out a reply to whoever Dealer is. Bellamy considers if it’s worth finding out Spacewalker’s address so he can beat the shit out of him. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.

“Kane?” He asks Miller, reaching to turn his phone on.

“Has told me to tell you to look at your phone.”

“God I hate this dude.” Bellamy groans, the sight of multiple notifications popping up on his screen making him want to turn the phone back off immediately. 168 messages from Octavia, 1 from Roma, 4 from Murphy, 50 messages in the group chat, 7 emails and 11 missed calls from Kane. God, he hates Spacewalker.

“Call Kane back. I’m going to get a beer.” Miller pushes himself to his feet and leaves, slapping Bellamy on the shoulder as he passes. Doing as Miller says, Bellamy thinks about all the different places he could punch Spacewalker.

“Why were you there?” Kane doesn’t even bother with a hello.

“A man’s not allowed to listen to one of the most popular bands in the country?”

“Not when that band is your rival and especially not without telling your manager first.” The fact that Kane sounds more inconvenienced than pissed is good. It means they can spin it. “Why were you there?”

“I really was just listening.” Bellamy sighs.

“You’re not _involved_ with either of them, are you?”

“Hell no.”

“It’s a valid question considering your history. Right. Now I know you weren’t supporting your girlfriend,” Kane mutters something under his breath, “don’t reply. I’ll get Monroe to write a response from the band’s account. She knows how to deal with Spacewalker. What I need you to do is nothing. Call Griffin if you want, but I’ve spoken to their publicist and she’s of the opinion that as long as there’s no relationship, they can spin it any which way.”

“I’m not calling Griffin.” Even the thought of phoning up the Princess, especially after their last call following the concert, makes him laugh. No way would she answer his call.

“That’s fine. Just next time you decide to attend your rivals’ concert, all me before.” With that Kane hangs up, never wasting time with pleasantries. Bellamy sighs. He won’t be calling Kane the next time he goes to a _Galaxy Girls_ concert. He’ll just be a lot more careful about where he stands.

Picking up a takeout box he tries to think of an answer to Miller’s and Kane’s question. Why was he there? It was true, he wasn’t fucking Raven or Clarke. Sure he’d fucked Raven once after the Spacewalker shit went down and there was that one party after Octavia left where he made Clarke fall apart with just his mouth. But those had been one offs. He’s pretty sure neither girl has told the other about it. A fact Bellamy could find insulting if he hadn’t been so secretive about the whole Clarke thing himself.  Even Miller doesn’t know about that. He throws the takeout box down, now finished, and picks up his guitar again.

He doesn’t play it though. If he does he knows he’ll end up playing about them. Already he’s had to scrap four songs, only having realised after he finished writing them that they were about Raven and Clarke. God he’s such a sap. A sap who can’t figure out why he keeps going to his rival’s concert. He does like their music, it’s impossible not to. There’s something else though. Something else that means he’s been at the last ten gigs they’ve done.

“Well?” Miller asks from the doorway. Bellamy’s head jerks up and he shrugs, fingers strumming against the guitar.

“Monroe is going to spin it.” This answer seems good enough for Miller and he drops the subject, handing Bellamy a beer. “Want to get drunk and prank call Murphy?”

 

Raven Reyes [23:18]: _Are you and Clarke going out behind my back?_

Bellamy Blake [23:20]: _No._

Raven Reyes [23:20]: _She said the same thing._

Bellamy Blake [23:20]: _Great._ (Read: 23:21)

She doesn’t reply and Bellamy locks his phone again. Since Spacewalker’s tweet he’s had to assure Roma he wasn’t dating anyone, tell Murphy to stop fucking replying to tweets from fans about it with _no comment_ and _what the fans don’t know won’t hurt them_ , ask Octavia to stop messaging him about it because _i’m not fucking either of them i’ve told you this stop being such a little shit_ and now he’s had to confirm to Reyes herself that he’s not screwing her best friend. It’s been a shitty evening. Miller had left at ten, taking all of Bellamy’s beer with him, the dickhead, and since then Bellamy’s been lying on his bed reading _Works and Days_ by Hesiod.

Kane had called him again before Miller left, reminding him that tomorrow they have an interview with _Mountain Music Magazine_ about the album and he better make sure he turns up on time. If he’s honest, Bellamy can’t care less. He loves the album, he knows it’s the best work he’s ever done, but he’s fed up of talking about it to people who don’t really understand. People who ask him who _Remembering You_ is about because they’ve only listened to it once and heard Murphy’s beat rather than Bellamy’s words. Not even all his band members understand some of the lyrics that he’s ripped out from inside his ribs and let drip blood on the page. He wouldn’t want them to understand all the lyrics. Still though, he’ll go tomorrow and answer their questions about the music and the writing process and he’ll sit next to Roma and laugh when they ask questions about whether or not he’s seeing anyone. _Oh fuck it._

Bellamy unlocks his phone again and brings up his keypad. Roma is number 5 on his speed dial, behind Octavia, Miller, Kane, and _Pizza Hut_. She picks up on the twelfth ring and he’s not sure if she kept him waiting or picked up as soon as she could.

“If you want to talk about your feelings or the album or -”

He cuts her off before she can continue. “Come over to my place. Bring condoms.”

“Ever the romantic.” She sounds pissed and pleased at the same time.

“I’m out and I’m not risking getting spotted buying condoms at the local pharmacy.”

“And you just presume I have a stash of condoms?”

“ _Roma_.” He presses, standing and tucking _Works and Days_ back onto his bookshelf where he’ll pick it back up from tomorrow.

“Be there in twenty.” He hangs up before she can and chucks his phone onto his bed, already beginning to tidy up. Roma doesn’t care about clean his apartment his, especially when they’ll both be too busy to notice, but he’s let it get messy recently and he doesn’t feel like explaining to her why he’s using a pizza box as a laundry hamper.

By the time he buzzes her up twenty minutes later the apartment looks less messy and it’s actually a wasted effort - albeit little to no effort went into kicking stuff under furniture and into the closet - because Roma pulls her shirt over her head the second the door locks behind her and hooks her legs around Bellamy’s waist the next moment. That’s definitely one thing he loves about fucking Roma; there’s no bullshit with her. They both know what they want and there aren’t any feelings involved. As long as they both come out of the other side pleased then they don’t need to talk about it, don’t need to beat around the bush and certainly don’t need to mess up what really is a beautiful situation with telling anyone.

 

He’s woken up to the sound of Roma speaking into her phone. Bellamy rolls over and pushes his hair out of his face. Roma is sat up, bed sheets tucked beneath her armpits so he can only see the expanse of her back.

“I’ll be there on time.” He reaches out and lightly trails his fingers long the tattoo just above her tailbone. Murphy called it a tramp stamp once and Roma kicked him in the balls.

“Who is it?” Propping himself up on his elbow he murmurs into her shoulder, grazing his teeth gently along her skin.

She looks at him, eyes telling him to be quiet, and mouths “Kane.” Then, speaking normally, “No, I’m alone.” Bellamy bites down gently and lets his hand drift around to her hipbone. “I’m in my house, Kane. What is this an interrogation?” Her voices hitches and she slaps at his hand half-heartedly, not really trying to move it from where it now rests beneath the sheets, fingers pressed to her thigh. “Stop it.” She mouths, glaring now. Bellamy concedes with a sigh and drops back against the bed. So much for a morning fuck. “Yeah yeah, I’ll pick him up on the way.” She hangs up and stands, taking the sheet with her so Bellamy is left naked on the mattress. “Get ready. The interview starts in two hours and they want us in hair and make up in forty minutes.”

“Sure.” Bellamy watches her walk to his ensuite, sheet tangling in her legs. When she’s out of sight he rolls over and grabs his phone. 2 messages from Miller and 1 from O. He’d read through the ones he’d gotten yesterday and ignored them all because he’d rather screw Roma then face up to the fact he had no excuse for going to the _Galaxy Girls_ concert. At least Roma hadn’t seem bothered. Her text had been blunt.

Roma [22:38]: _If you’re screwing them fine but remember you’re my date to my cousin’s wedding in February._

He opens the text from Miller.

Miller [09:56]: _Don’t be late._

Miller [09:59]: _Bring pringles._

God he was worse than O sometimes. Sighing, Bellamy locked his phone and stood, pulling on the nearest pair of boxers and walking to the kitchen. Roma would be quick in the shower, she always was unless he was in there with her, and then he’d soak himself for as long as he could before Roma banged on the door to tell him to get out or they’d be late. Then he’d get dressed and drag himself to the goddamn interview. Until then though, he’s content to brew the strongest coffee he can.

 

The interview is the same one as they had last time so there’s no need for introductions. Miller says hi anyway because he actually has manners and at his glare, Bellamy shakes the woman’s hand too.

Then they’re sitting down on a couch that looks comfier than it is and the cameraman is counting down from five. As soon as he mouths “one”, Bellamy smiles.

“Hey! Welcome to _Talking with Tsing_!” The interview smiles widely into the camera, hands clasped in her lap. She’s a professional, casual enough to invite people in and cold enough to remind everyone of her status and who she works for. “Today we’re joined by all the members of the _Delinquents_!” The camera pans around to them on the sofa, Murphy on the far end and Bellamy almost in the middle, between Miller and Roma. They all wave and grin, Murphy’s looking a little bit more sadistic than any normal human being. “It’s good to have you guys back.” Lorelei Tsing says, turning so her crossed legs are angled towards the band.

“Good to be back.” Roma smiles, her lips tight.

“Tell me, how excited are you guys for the release of your new album. Forty eight days to go now until _Whatever The Hell We Want_ releases and already the pre-orders have smashed records. You must feel great.”

Miller nods, “Well we owe it all to the fans. Everything is thanks to them.”

“The pre-orders are amazing. We half expected it all to be one big joke.” It’s easy, turning on the charm and saying the right words. They’ve done this a thousand times and, out of all of them, Bellamy has it easiest. Well, except for Miller who really never turns the charm off because he’s actually just genuinely nice. Bellamy can smile that way that makes people weak at the knees and wink at the right moments and use that voice that sends fans screaming for him. What’s not easy is answering stupid questions about concerts he keeps turning up to, mainly because he’s not expecting the question when it comes.

They’ve been talking about the album, the singles, how Miller settled so easily into the band and then suddenly Tsing smiles and asks the question Bellamy knows Monroe put on the “no talk” topic list.

“So, Blake, did you enjoy the _Galaxy Girls_ concert?” Tsing speaks calmly, pretends she has no idea what she’s doing. Murphy snorts and Roma straightens her back. Bellamy’s on the defensive. Monroe had responded to Spacewalker’s tweet, spouted some brilliant PR bullshit about how Bellamy was allowed to listen to one of the best bands in the country. Then ended it with a link to the _Delinquents_ ’ pre-order page. Spacewalker had responded with some cocky comment that got more retweets than Monroe’s. Aside from that though they didn’t really have a cover for it. _Galaxy Girls_ hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even contacted Monroe or Kane.

Bellamy meets Tsing’s smile with a smirk. “I think you overestimate how much I’m willing to talk about my personal life.” He slings his arm over the back of the couch, knowing that he can pull this off. Casual, smug, arrogant, that’s always been how they’ve sold Bellamy.

“Going to a concert counts as your personal life? Is that perhaps because of your entanglements with the _Galaxy Girls_ themselves?”

“The only people I’m entangled with are the people sat here on this couch and my family. You want to ask about them? Go ahead.” He waves his hand flippantly, inviting Tsing to even try and continue her line of questioning. “I don’t think Griffin and Reyes would appreciate you assuming that they’d ever stoop low enough to entangle themselves with the likes of me.” He can see Monroe behind the camera, phone pressed against her cheek. She gives him a thumbs up.

“None of us are in relationships at the moment. We’re all too busy with the press tour and the album.” Roma says, not allowing Tsing to respond.

Miller picks it up. “We love this album and have dedicated everything to it. We hope the fans love it too.”

“And I think we all know they will!.” Tsing smiles and this time there’s nothing casual about it. “Thank you guys so much for coming, it’s been a great chat.” Miller reaches out, shakes her hand and Tsing turns back to the camera, giving her closing spiel. When they’re signalled to, the four of them smile and wave. The cameras click off and so do their smiles. Bellamy knows they all look ready to kill Tsing.

She doesn’t seem bothered by this. Doesn’t offer them any more smiles, just nods civilly and leaves, calling an assistant over to her. Bellamy remains on the couch as Monroe bursts forward, telling them they were brilliant and Murphy could you please try not to look like you’re going to snap at any moment? Miller watches Bellamy carefully, adjusting his beanie. Monroe turns to him too. “Alright?”

“Yeah. Kinda want a beer.” He shrugs nonchalantly. Monroe considers him for a second and then nods, putting her phone away.

“That’ll air tonight. I don’t know if they’ll edit it out. Do you want them to?”

“Nah, let them do what they want with it.” Bellamy stands. “It’s the truth so we might as well get it out there.”

 

Back at his apartment Bellamy decides to text Reyes. Monroe has probably already contacted their publicist but it seems right to warn them himself. Or Raven at least. If he texted Clarke she’d probably try to have him shot.

Bellamy Blake [14:20]: _Watch MM tonight. Talking With Tsing._

Raven Reyes [14:33]: _And tell me why I’d want to watch you and your band mates jerk off about your album?_

Bellamy Blake [14:35]: _Because you come up in conversation_.

Raven Reyes [14:35]: _Tell me this isn’t about the concert._

Bellamy Blake [14:35]: _Can't do that._

Raven Reyes [14:37]: _I’m going to kill Spacewalker._

Bellamy Blake [14:37]: _Not if I get there first._

 

He goes for a run in the afternoon, watches reruns of _The Office_ until he’s bored of Michael Scott. His phone buzzes before he steps into the shower in the evening, a single text message. The interview finished airing five minutes ago and he hasn’t bothered to watch it. He’ll let Octavia tell him about it trough bad text speak tomorrow.

 

Raven Reyes [20:39]: _Thanks for the warning Blake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @iffoundreturntoclarke - Monty's instagram/twitter  
> @livinthehighlife - Jasper's instagram/twitter  
> @mechanicbyday - Raven's instagram  
> @notsodumb - Clarke's instagram  
> @thedelinquents - Official band instagram/twitter of the Delinquents  
> @spacewalker - Finn's twitter/instagram


End file.
